


worries

by gaytimetraveller



Category: Persona 2
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7912780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaytimetraveller/pseuds/gaytimetraveller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Chikalin couldn't help but worry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	worries

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to angst hour

Sometimes, Chikalin worried. She was worried about Lisa, about the things that Lisa wouldn’t tell her, about every secret she knew Lisa was keeping. Generally, Chikalin was a carefree person, she didn’t worry much about herself, about her job, she never worried about school, or about her future. But she did worry about Lisa.

She worried about Lisa when she woke up in the middle of the night, a scream dying before she could get it out. She worried about how Lisa would have nightmares sometimes and she wouldn’t stop shaking, wouldn’t stop crying in her sleep, speaking half-words and half-names; she never seemed to remember anything in the morning, or at least pretended she didn’t. She worried about how Lisa would go out in the kitchen when she thought Chikalin wasn’t awake, and she’d make herself a cup of tea and cry until it started to get light out. Chikalin was always awake.

Sometimes Lisa would rub her arms, her legs too, and shudder. Chikalin had a feeling that she’d been hurt, rubbing over scars that weren’t there and scars that were. Chikalin had never forgotten what’d happened, although some nights she wished she did, and she knew Lisa wouldn’t be forgetting for a long time. She knew Lisa had been more wrapped up in everything more than she ever could’ve hoped to be. She knew bad things had happened, bad things Lisa wouldn’t tell her about, and she could only wish that she could’ve been there for her.

Some nights Chikalin cried too, cried over the secrets her girlfriend kept and how dangerous she knew they must be that she would never tell them. But she never cried in front of Lisa, she couldn’t know she was worried, she had enough to deal with, enough bad memories and everything else Chika could only guess.

A few times, late at night, later than either of them should’ve been awake, when Lisa was out in the kitchen with her cup of hot chocolate and puffy eyes, she’d be on the phone. Chikalin didn’t have superhuman hearing, but she did know Lisa was on the phone with her friends, most times Maya.

Sometimes Chikalin wondered if Lisa’s friends were worse than her, or if they were better.

From what she heard of her conversations with Maya, Lisa was on the better end.

She didn’t want to think about what it was like to be worse. _Who_ would be worse. (She knew, she always knew, Chikalin had always had a gut instinct stronger than anything else. Every time she thought about it, no matter how much she didn’t want to, she could see their faces in her head.)

Sometimes when they all got together, the times when it wasn’t just laughing and bickering, playful banter and light shoulder bumps, the times that barely happened. Those times she could see how _tired_ they all looked, but they still had that light in their eyes, always had that light in their eyes, as if they were determined to prove the world wrong, daring heaven and hell and everything else to come and take that hope from them.

Chikalin wondered what the hell she’d missed.

(She didn’t want to know, but she did, she knew, she always knew.)

Chikalin wondered if they didn’t tell her because they didn’t trust her (they wanted to protect her she knew Lisa had only ever wanted to protect her).

Sometimes she thought maybe she’d do something to get herself wrapped up in the web of secrets she knew they were all involved in, but she thought of every night she’d held Lisa through another night terror and thought _not today, not today_.

Then she remembered all the times Lisa had walked into Peace Diner, covered in bandages and bruises, once or twice even with an arm slung in a makeshift cast, or leaning on someone’s shoulder, limping into the restaurant. But every time she ordered a burger and said hi to Chikalin, no matter the amount of dirt and god-knows-what she was caked in, no matter how many nicks and cuts and fading bruises she had, she never lost that light in her eyes.

And she still never did.

It wasn’t Lisa’s nightmares and secrets and sobbing on the phone at 2am that scared Chikalin the most though. Chika knew how to comfort her girlfriend, she _knew_ Lisa. What worried her was that sometimes, every now and then, years after high school, after moving in together, after the matching rings and necklaces and _everything_ , everything still wasn’t okay. Some nights Lisa would still come home with a few fresh bruises, maybe a cut or two, a few times even a burn or frostbite. Some mornings Lisa would get a call, and she’d jump out of bed at 5am and be gone all morning, and come back with Hello Kitty bandages all over her legs and not-quite-covered-up scrapes all over her knees, just like in high school.

Sometimes Chikalin hadn’t even noticed Lisa had been out getting herself hurt until she seen the fading bruises on her arms the next morning.

And every now and then, when Lisa was busy, or out with friends, or inevitably out doing who-knows-what, Chikalin worried that maybe one of these days Lisa _wouldn’t_ come home. She’d been anxious, always anxious in the very back of her head, ever since she’d went to coffee with Noriko, who mentioned the time Anna came home, collapsed on the couch covered in blood and barely breathing. She was alright, she was always alright, Anna always seemed to make it out of everything pretty okay, if not a little banged up.

Chikalin knew if she lost Lisa to anything, it would be _this_.

So she held on, she held on as tight as she could. She held Lisa when she was asleep, held onto her when she was awake, held her hand on tight when they went out grocery shopping. Chikalin held onto Lisa like she was the only thing she had left (and in a way she was, Lisa was her world, Lisa was her _everything_ ).

She knew that even keeping Lisa as close to her as she could, she was only a moment away from losing her to the secrets that Lisa had spent years protecting her from. No matter how tight she held on, she knew it would never be tight enough to stop the inevitable.

Chikalin had always had a strong gut instinct after all, that’s what had led her to pursue rumours, even at the cost of her own safety. She was never worried about it, she always made it out alright. Chikalin was always alright, the worst she came home with was a scraped elbow and a missing hairpin.

And Chikalin always knew that even though she held on with everything she had, _it would never be_ _enough_.


End file.
